Two arms outstretched, across and up,
Red as the setting sun,
Two arms that met to form a cross
And, meeting, became one.
A cross, blood-red, as martyrs' blood,
As the Blood of Christ Himself;
Two arms which death and new life tell,
Accepted death, and life from Hell:
The Christian's hope and health.
This cross against a white base stood,
The white of a newborn soul
Who comes wet dripping from rebirth
And cannot quite hold back his mirth
To find his spirit whole.
And this great sign on battlements
Was found, o'er hill and dale,
In times long past, when hope held fast,
And England's faith was hale.
MacKillop-Woods Way Pilgrimage 2018 – Day Eight (23 April) – Bodalla to Moruya via the Princes Highway - Today we did something that we have not done in all the previous 34 days of walking, and we did it only because we had no choice. The Way from Bodalla to M...
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